Til Huttetuenes land
by ambitiousbutrubbish
Summary: Sam and Dean are hunters. This is no bear. Dean/Castiel
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So I saw the movie Troll Hunter and then this happened.

Possible misuse of Norwegian folklaw, with much of it lifted from Troll Hunter (and a little bit from American Gods). If you see anything hugely and utterly wrong, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Unbetta'd. In response to any mistakes, please contact Apple and ask why their spell check doesn't catch everything.

* * *

There is a bear that has made its home in the woods, or so the reports say. Sam and Dean have no reason to doubt there's something - not since the beam of their flashlights caught the sheep's head - and they have been following a path marked by the occasional spots of blood and wool since. There is no continuous line of blood. Rather, it appears in patches, as if the bear is stopping every hundred or so meters to eat a little before moving on. Not typical bear behaviour. Every time they find a new patch, the brothers split up to find the next, one sending the other a text when they have done so, and then meeting up at it again using the GPS tracking system on their phones. Slowly but surely, Sam and Dean have made their way deep into the trees.

Hunting at night is not ideal. In fact, it's inadvisable, but they haven't managed to catch sight of the creature during the day time, only the evidence that it exists that it leaves behind, and this is a last ditch effort to find the animal where it sleeps. Winchesters don't give up, and Sam and Dean will do whatever it takes to do what they do best. And what they do best is help farmers with any problem they have that threaten their livestock. Bears are their speciality.

The night is practically pitch black, the inky darkness cut only by the small lights both brothers hold in their hands. The day had been overcast, and the cloud cover has remained, blocking out the slight relief any moonlight would have bought. Sam and Dean stand over the latest patch of sheep remains, debating which direction to move in next, when thunder rolls in from behind. Suddenly there is a loud crack, and a sheet of lightning flashes across the sky. For a few seconds the woods are light up, and the brothers can see clearly around themselves. Up ahead, the thick tree cover ends abruptly, but what it gives way to is not a clearing. Instead, Sam and Dean see trunks lying flat along the ground, their roots reaching towards the sky higher then their branches. Thirty or so trees uprooted, with no conceivable reason why they have been.

The lightning is gone, almost as quickly as it came.

The thunder rumbles further away.

Fade to black.

-00000-

Silence does not return to the woods.

The sound is different. It doesn't roll in like thunder; it's not there and suddenly it is. Sam and Dean stand statue still as the rumbling turns into a roar, followed by two loud crashes and a steady thumping, as if something is walking towards them. But there is nothing in this forest that is big enough to create footsteps that loud.

The brother's peer off into the distance, eyes straining in the direction of the unexplainable clearing where the not-footsteps are getting louder. Another roar, and it's a sound unlike anything Sam and Dean have heard before outside of movies. They turn to look at each other.

And then they're not alone in the woods. There is another man, and he appears beside Dean as if out of thin air. His dark hair is tousled, and his skin where the flashlight beam hits it seems otherworldly golden, and he is impossibly beautiful. And he speaks, and his voice is like the rumbling of a storm.

"Run."

-00000-

Sam and Dean run, and the man runs with them. The crashing and snarling does not fade, but continues at the same volume, as if no matter how far or fast they run, they are not getting any further away from the clearing that shouldn't be there and whatever is now within it. There is barely any light to see by, the darkness ahead only broken occasionally by the erratically moving beams of light Sam and Dean hold in their hands. Their rifles, strapped across the chest and over the shoulder, smack painfully into their backs. The other man does not have a light, but he seems to be moving more surely through the woods than the brothers.

And so the three of them run largely blind through the trees, away from that sound that feels like it's chasing them, and it doesn't seem like they're going anywhere,

But they are moving, because there is the end of the woods, and just beyond that, the Impala.

Dean reaches his car first, and he throws himself in the driver's seat. He's breathing hard, and he can't hear anything beyond the roars and the pounding of his own blood in his ears. He's not even sure why he had listened to the man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere - all he knows is that that voice had said run and those eyes had been so wide and his body had just reacted. But Sam is jumping into the passenger seat and Dean reaches for the key.

Sam's hand darts out and catches his wrist. "We can't leave him behind."

"Sammy, he's probably got his own car."

"He doesn't. There's nothing else here, Dean. We can't just leave him."

Dean makes an almost strangled sound and pushes himself out of the car again. The roaring is definitely louder. It crashes into his eardrums and fills his head with the sound; it sinks in through his skin until his entire body is thrumming with it, and the impossibly beautiful man turns and he looks at Dean and though he doesn't raise his voice, Dean can still hear him clear as day.

"Get in the car and go."

"We're not going to let you go walking off alone after whatever it is in the woods." Sam is always the one that can be counted on to keep his wits about him, and Dean nods along to his shout.

"I'll be fine" the man says "I know my way back."

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. His body is actually shaking now, as if the vibrations of the sounds coming from the woods - and definitely coming closer - could actually move him, but he would never forgive himself for abandoning another person.

"If you stay, we stay." Dean says, and he's pleased that his voice holds steady while everything else is fighting against the very strong impulse to just get back in the car.

The man looks at the pair of them for a moment, and then there is a crash, and a tree falls down close enough to them that the very top of it pokes out of the edge of the woods. The next moment the man is sliding in to the back seat of the Impala.

Sam and Dean both throw themselves in after, and Dean turns on the ignition and they speed off towards the town. Neither of the brothers look back.

-00000-

So there's a man in the back of the Impala and his eyes are as blue as the cloudless sky. They dart about the cabin as if looking for exists, and if Dean didn't know that his baby was perfect, he would swear that the other man didn't like her. Sam stares resolutely straight ahead, in a way that can only mean he's fighting every urge in his overlarge frame to turn around and ask the stranger a million questions about what was going on.

The silence is almost unbearably awkward, and the words force themselves out of Dean's mouth unbidden.

"So what's your name then, man?"

The man looks up and catches Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. Dean knows he should be watching the road, but he feels himself being caught in that gaze, that blue staring into the depths of his green, as if eyes really are the windows to the soul, and the stranger is looking straight at Dean's and passing judgement. He can feel the Impala drifting slightly to the left, and Sam looks across startled, but Dean can't wrench his focus away from the rearview mirror, as the dark haired man seems to scrape him raw.

All at once the man blinks, and the feeling his gone. Dean focuses on the road again and hastily corrects their course before the stranger speaks.

"Castiel. My name is Castiel."

"What was that?" Explodes out of Sam, and Dean looks up to see if Castiel is seemingly communing with Sammy's essence like he did with his own, but instead sees him staring out the window, and giving no particular sign that he heard what Sam said.

Dean is considering prompting him before Castiel speaks again.

"It was nothing you need to know about and nothing I am going to tell you."

The sentence lingers in the air, effectively killing conversation as they drive the last couple of miles to the town and pull into the motel. Dean and Sam get out of the car and walk towards their room. They look behind them to see Castiel standing slightly away from the Impala, arms hanging at his sides and looking up at the unmarked sky. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but again Castiel speaks before he gets a word out.

"Thank you for letting me ride in your car. I will just find somewhere to stay now."

"No way." Dean says, and Sam gives him a startled look. Dean is a little surprised himself, if he's honest, but something is telling him not to just let Castiel go. "You're not wandering off on your own, buddy. Not while there's something out there that you won't tell us about but don't seem that desperate to avoid. I'm not going to be reading about you tomorrow in the papers."

Castiel is staring at him, and Dean stops talking. There's something in those eyes, something beyond the blue, and Dean finds himself wanting to take a step forward to get a good look, get up in Castiel's space and search for whatever it is in his gaze that makes Dean feel like he's falling, like all of his secrets are laid bare for Castiel to read and the other man is the only one who can catch him if he deems him worthy before he hits the ground. He fights the temptation, folding his arms across his chest.

Castiel blinks.

"Very well." He says, and sweeps past Sam and Dean and into their room.

Sam gives Dean an incredulous look, clearly asking if Dean has lost it. Dean only shrugs in return, and the brothers walk into the small, two person room.

Castiel has already taken up one of the armchairs, and while personally Dean doesn't think they'd be comfortable to sleep in, he only shrugs again, and he and Sam get ready to sleep.

Dean lays down on the bed. He looks over at Sam, watches him for a few seconds to make sure he's still breathing. He looks at Castiel, who's sitting in the armchair with his eyes closed, but with his spine far too straight for him to be asleep. Dean sighs and flicks off the light. He closes his eyes.

Fade to black.

-00000-

Castiel is gone when Dean wakes up, and he has left no trace. Dean is almost considering chalking all of last night up to a strange dream, but Sam stirs from sleep and the first motion his eyes make is towards the armchair that had previously occupied Castiel. Unless the two of them hved reached creepy levels of codependency where they share dreams, it is unlikely either of them had imagined the strange clearing or the strange noises or the even stranger blue eyed man.

They stumble out of the room twenty minutes later looking for their morning caffeine fix. There's a small diner ten minutes walk from the place where they spent the night, and Dean shovels down a huge amount of bacon while Sam sips slowly at his coffee. While he drinks, he finds his gaze drawn to the window, and looking out at the park across the street, he spots a dark haired figure sitting alone in the middle of the grassed area, his eyes closed and face turned towards the sky.

Sam looks across the table and catches Dean's eye, inclining his head towards the window. Dean glances over and sees Castiel, and he looks quickly back at Sam. Silently, they agree to keep an eye on their companion from last night.

Castiel doesn't get up and leave for the entire day. Occasionally he sways slightly, as if moving to a music that only he can here, but otherwise he sits ramrod straight, face tilted to the heavens, as children run around him unperturbed. Sam and Dean have had to move buildings throughout the day. There's only so long that a person can stay in one shop before it begins to look suspicious, and they are trying not to bring any attention to themselves to keep their presence secret from Castiel, despite the fact that it looks as if nothing could have captured his attention.

As the sun sinks over the horizon and the sky is painted with purples and dark blues, Castiel's eyes suddenly flick open, and he gets to his feet without even a hint of a stumble. Dean is just tucking in to a slice of pie while Sam checks up on recent reports of bear activity, but both heads flick towards the park as Castiel makes his move.

Castiel begins to walk towards the woods behind the park, and Sam rises quickly to follow him. He reaches the door before he realises that Dean isn't following, and turns around with it half open.

"Come on, Dean. We have to go now if we're going to keep up with him."

He steps out of the diner, small bell over the door tinkling behind him. Dean stands, throws his pie a mournful look, and follows after.

-00000-

The woods from last night are far closer as the crow flies than they were when they were driving. It's worrying, actually, how near they are to the town, even if all they were looking for was bear and not a creature that uproots trees and roars loud enough to shake the heart.

They follow Castiel at a distance that keeps him just in their sights as they walk deeper and deeper into the trees. Dean chances a look behind himself and he can no longer see the lights from the town, just the long trunks and high branches of the trees that black out the light of the stars.

He returns his gaze forward and stops abruptly. Castiel is no longer visible. He turns towards Sam, whose face echoes his confusion. One moment Castiel had been walking beneath a tree ahead to them and the next he was gone. Sam and Dean stand alone in the woods, with nothing but the light of the moon to guide them.

Turning back is not an option. They've come this far, watched a man for an entire day and then followed him into the woods, and their only choice is to move forward. Yet without Castiel to guide them, however unknowingly, Sam and Dean can do nothing more than to stumble blindly in the direction of the last place they saw the other man. And stumble they do, not bothering to hide their presence anymore.

Then they can hear a sound. First, it rumbles underneath the noise of their footsteps and the crunching of leaves and then it overpowers everything. Crashes, thumps, and that bone rattling roar from last night. Sam and Dean don't even take the time to look at each other. They sprint off in the direction of the noise.

And come face to face with a creature that defies belief. It's huge. At least twice the height of Sam and three times as wide. It has three heads, each with a large, bulbous nose, but only the middle sports tiny eyes and a mouth filled with large, flat teeth made for grinding and smashing. It's wearing a small loincloth, and in one hand it wields a tree trunk as if it were a hammer, swinging it around and slamming it hard into the ground.

Dodging the blows at the creature's feet is Castiel. He moves with a gracefulness that doesn't seem real. Spinning and stepping with the preciseness of a trained and rehearsed dancer, and yet every move he makes is completely spontaneous. Castiel ducks a particularly low sweep of the branch and Sam and Dean both gasp together. Castiel must hear them, because he looks over, and his quick glance lasts just a second too long.

The hand of the creature not holding on to the tree branch follows it around and collects Castiel square in the middle of the chest, throwing him back a good ten meters so he hits the ground hard. All at once the scene changes from Castiel outmaneuvering the giant creature, to lying on the ground, with his leg bent at an impossible angle and the great beast stomping towards him.

Dean doesn't even stop to think. He darts forward and throws a rock at the creature before Sam has time to reach out and stop him.

"Hey ugly. Yeah, that's you."

The middle head swings around and Dean finds that he isn't scared. This creature is hurting people and killing livestock, and he isn't going to let that happen. The rest of it's body follows the head around, and suddenly it is heading away from Castiel and towards Dean. He reaches down to pick up another rock to throw, but he is far too slow. One second he's facing down something that can't exist in this world, and the next he is hit, full bodied, by an arm and flying backwards into a tree.

Fade to black.

-00000-

Sam's words seem muffled, somehow. As if Dean has something stuffed in his ears.

"You're lucky. You only ended up with a small cut."

Dean blinks slowly and looks around him. He's back in the motel room, through he has no idea how he got there. The last thing he remembers is facing off against something giant and unknown while strangely calm, and then a blinding pain, and then nothing.

"What happened?"

"You're an idiot, that's what happened", Sam hisses back. He does't sound angry. Not really. He sounds scared, and Dean feels a nameless panic rising in his chest in response. "You got knocked out, and you were just lying there as that thing got closer and closer. I thought you were going to die. And then Castiel got up and picked this stone up off the ground next to him and it started glowing until I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, that creature had turned to stone."

"What? Like actual stone?"

"Yes, Dean. Stone. Castiel pushed it over and it smashed all over the ground. And then he walked over and picked you up and carried you here. Do you know how scared I was?"

Looking at his brother, Dean feels a twinge of guilt, but something needs to be dealt with first.

"You're saying that Castiel carried me? Sammy, you saw his leg as clear as I did. There's no way he was even carrying himself"

"I'm afraid your distance may have affected your view. As you can see, my leg is perfectly fine." Just as he had in the woods, Castiel seems to appear out of nowhere, making Sam jump and Dean's head spin alarmingly. Castiel does not react to either, walking forward until he stands at Dean's bedside. "How are you feeling, Dean?"

Dean doesn't remember ever actually telling Castiel his name, but he figures that the other man must have heard Sam use it at some point. Mystery of the name aside, Dean can feel himself getting angry. "What the hell was that thing, Cas?"

Castiel doesn't react to the nickname, and Dean is sure that his question will go unanswered.

"It was a troll."

"It was a...a what? A troll?" Sam's reply. Dean feels too stunned to say anything.

"Yes. A troll. I hunt them."

-00000-

"What do you mean, you hunt them?" Dean is completely and utterly out of his depth, but hunting he knows, it's something he understands, and he can't quite grasp hunting that thing.

"Trolls are not a docile race, though they tend to remain in their own territories. However, sometimes they wander out. It is my job to eliminate any troll threat before it gets close enough to harm humans."

"And you're insisting there's trolls, then?"

"Of course there are trolls. What other explanation could there possibly be for what you saw last night?"

"Sure. Of course. And the three heads?"

"One head, actually. The other two were merely growths that formed later in life, biologically designed to look like heads to frighten rivals."

"But I thought trolls were native to Norway." Sam pipes up. He sounds just as lost as Dean feels, but he seems to be attempting to make his expression look knowledgeable, and failing dismally. "Not that I believe in them, but trolls are part of Norwegian folklaw, right?"

Castiel looks away from Dean for the first time since he entered the room. He tilts his head to the side slightly, and looks at Sam with narrowed eyes, as if he is looking at him for the first time, and not quite liking what he sees. Finally, he speaks. "You are correct, Sam. Trolls only arrived relatively recently in this country. They came across in the minds and myths of the Norwegian people, and while they have not thrived, they do well enough."

"So wait, wait," Dean buts in, and he can feel himself getting slightly hysterical "You're saying that there are trolls here that sprung out of the brains of Norwegian people and they have three heads and they eat sheep and you hunt them?"

Castiel shifts his gaze back to Dean. Either he doesn't hear Dean's tone, or he enjoys his imminent panic, because there is a gleam of what seems to be amusement in his eyes. "I told you, trolls only have one head, and for the large part, they tend to eat rocks. But yes, that is what I'm saying, more or less."

"That's crazy."

"Would you like to come on my next hunt?"

"God yes" Sam and Dean say in unison.

-00000-

The call comes through within three hours. Castiel answers his phone with a look on his face of someone who doesn't have to very often. He even nods a few times instead of speaking, but the person on the other end just keeps talking, despite the lack of verbal response. After a while, Castiel ends the call with a gruff "of course". and turns to Sam and Dean.

"Three hours west of here. We will take your car."

The ride is near silent, but not in the same way that the one after escaping the troll the first night had been. There is a thrumming energy in the vehicle, Dean can feel it. It makes the hairs on his arms stand on end and his hands tap against the steering wheel. Every now and then he'll cast a glance at Sam and the two of them will grin at each other. Castiel, in the backseat, does not seem to be catching on to the mood. For the most part he stares out the window, but sometimes Dean will look up into the rearview mirror and find Castiel watching him. Whenever this happens he feels a flush not all that different from excitement, and looks away again quickly.

The three of them pull up in front of a small forest. Tree cover is not as thick as at the last woods, but they are taller, casting long shadows that swallow the Impala. Castiel is already out of the car before Dean and Sam have undone their seatbelts, and he stares off into the trees. Dean gets out of the car and goes to stand near him. For a reason unknown to himself he wants to get closer, to bump their shoulders together or something. But Castiel looks untouchable, unknowable, and so he doesn't.

Sam coughs loudly, and Dean wrenches his gaze towards his brother. He hadn't even realised he was staring at Castiel. Or that Castiel was apparently watching him back. He can still feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull like a physical itch. He refrains from the urge to reach up and scratch it.

"Are we going to do this or not?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Not right now. We need to wait until it's dark. Sunlight turns trolls to stone, so they hole up in lairs during the day and are much more difficult to find."

"So what are we doing here?" Sam asks, and he's beginning to sound slightly frustrated. Dean wonders if he got much sleep last night while he was unconscious.

"I need to get a feel of the place" Castiel replies, and just like before he doesn't acknowledge Sam's vocal cues. Instead, he wanders away towards the forest, and runs his hands long the branches of some of the trees on the edge.

Dean looks across at Sam, and he is definitely not happy. "Come on, Cas. You and I can get some food and Sam can have his beauty sleep while we wait."

Castiel pauses in his slow walk around the perimeter. He looks up towards the sky and says something that Dean can't make out. Then he turns and walks back to the car, slipping into the back seat without saying a word. Dean shrugs and follows him in. Sam trudges after.

-00000-

They drop Sam off at the nearest motel and continue on to a small diner. Dean makes a beeline for the counter, but Castiel hesitates before stepping through the door. Dean almost doesn't notice, preoccupied as he is by the choice in burgers, but he feels a slight chill at his side, as if a breeze is finding him at last, and he turns around to see Castiel lingering near the front of the restaurant.

"Come on and order, Cas. It's on me." Dean jerks his head and Castiel comes over to stand beside him. All at once, Dean feels warmer again, and he can't stop himself from leaning into Castiel's space a little more, seeking out that feeling.

Castiel does not seem to find anything unusual with Dean's behaviour. Rather, he keeps his eyes fixed on the menu on the countertop. "No thank you, Dean. I don't require anything."

"Whatever you say, buddy, but you're at least getting a coffee." Dean scoffs, before turning his eye to the waitress behind the counter who is watching the pair of them with a curious expression on her face. "I'll get two coffees, black, and a double bacon cheeseburger, thanks." And he practically drags Castiel off to sit at one of the booths.

They sit in silence. Dean watches as Castiel's eyes flit about the diner, settling on nothing for more than a few seconds other than the window and the view outside. Eventually his gaze returns to the front, and Dean has a brief moment of worry that Castiel is going to freak out about the fact that Dean is watching him, again. He doesn't say anything, though, only stares right back, until they are interrupted by the waitress giving a a tiny cough and then setting their order on the table before scurrying off.

Dean blinks rapidly a few times before he can focus properly on the burger before him. Castiel doesn't seem much more aware than he feels, looking down at his coffee as if he has never seen the drink before. Dean decides that the silence between them needs to be broken. "So is there anything else I need to know before tonight?"

Castiel looks up from his coffee and narrows his eyes. "Trolls are notoriously stupid. As long as you keep quiet, and keep out of the way, you will be fine."

Dean starts and looks around himself, checking for the other occupants of the diner. There is a family, harried looking parents and their three children, in the far corner and the waitress is behind the counter again cleaning off the coffee machine. All out of hearing range, but when Dean speaks again, he is careful to keep his voice to a hiss.

"Do you really think we should be talking so openly about trolls."

Castiel looks at him in a way that speaks volumes about what he thinks of Dean's intelligence, and they are not favourable thoughts. "Even if someone were to overhear us, I don't think they would think that I am talking about real trolls."

Dean can't help but agree on that point, and he smiles despite himself. "Alright then. Why don't you tell me about yourself then, Cas?"

Castiel looks down at his coffee again, and Dean feels the loss of his gaze as if it were something tangible. "We have spoken only of me and what I do since we met. How did you become a hunter, Dean?"

Dean doesn't particularly want to talk about himself, but he can't help but thinking that Castiel is right. How can he expect the other man to trust him on a potentially dangerous venture if he knows nothing about him or what he can do.

Dean sighs, loudly. "My mum's family were all hunters. Game, mostly, but they would help out farmers with small predators on occasion. She met my dad while tracking some coyotes on his property, and she gave up hunting to be with him and raise Sammy and me." Here, Dean pauses, and looks up to find Castiel watching him with his head tilted slightly and eyes earnestly wide. Dean decides to continue.

"Then one day something was taking sheep off the farm and mum went out to hunt it down. Wasn't expecting it to be a bear. She...she died." Dean feels his storytelling speed up. He just wants to race to the end and get it over with. "And dad, he couldn't handle it. He just went straight for the bottle. Some days he could barely string two words together. Sam was only six months old, so he doesn't remember it, but I was four, and I had to look after him. Keep him safe from everything. We started hunting when Sammy was about ten. Part of it was because it was a connection to mum, but mostly I just wanted him out of the house."

Dean finishes his story and finds that he is breathing harder than he realised. He looks down at his burger. It is only half eaten, but he isn't feeling hungry anymore. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder, a warmth seeping into his bones, and he looks into Castiel's big, blue eyes. "I am sorry, Dean."

"Yeah, so am I."

A silence lasts for a few seconds, before Castiel removes his hand. Somehow, the warmth lingers. "If you aren't going to eat any more, perhaps you would like to come with me to get some bait."

Dean wonders where they're going to get troll bait in a town, but he follows Castiel out of the diner without asking any questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel brings Dean to a farm. It's a farm remarkably like the one Dean grew up on; a few hundred sheep and goats, backed up onto a woods. Dean assumes it is the same patch of trees the troll has taken up residence in. He doesn't, however, quite catch on to why Castiel has come here until the other man is approaching the flock of sheep in a crouched position with his hand outstretched.

When he does figure it out, Dean lurches forward, catching Castiel on the upper arm and spinning him around to face him. "This is what you meant by bait? Sheep? You're just going to, what, catch one and tie it up and wait until the troll eats it?"

Castiel looks genuinely baffled. "Of course I am, Dean. Trolls eat sheep, and I need a way to lure them out."

"And you're okay with stringing an animal up to die?"

"When it comes to the choice between an entire flock or even a human life, I find that the loss of one or two sheep is forgivable."

Dean glares at Castiel for a while, but Castiel shows no sign of understanding what it is that has made Dean upset, nor does he appear to be trying to make it better. Dean considers Castiel's statement and finds that while he may not like it, he can't help but agree. He sighs, loudly.

"Fine, I guess, but let me do the catching. You look like you have no idea what you're doing."

Dean has not spent much time around sheep since he was 14 years old, and he hadn't realised he had any fond memories of them. When he thinks about farms, he thinks of his father, drowning himself in alcohol, the stink of it sticking to his clothes, his house and his words, bringing Dean to his knees and driving Sam out the door, even in his pre-teen years. Farming has always reminded Dean of growing up too fast and too hard, wrong in ways that he doesn't think can ever be fixed.

But as he stalks a sheep, Dean finds that he isn't thinking of those things. He's remembering being away from that house. Out in the fields, a six year old Sam stumbling after him. Shrieking laughter, Sammy trying to bury his face in sheep wool and then lying together in the grass, Dean smiling to himself because if Sam rolls over even just a little bit to his left it will be straight into a pile of dung.

The force of the memories hits Dean hard in the chest, and for a second he can't do anything but stand there in the middle of the field and feel them clenching at his heart. Sam isn't here now, he's sleeping off his worry in a motel room, but it isn't hard to imagine a tiny baby brother tripping up over a small hole made by the repeated press of hooves, the noise of surprise he makes startling the flock and making a small patch run away.

It takes some time for him to realise that it is in fact Dean making that sound, a short bark of laughter surprised out of him by his imagination, and the sheep he was edging closer towards has indeed moved some distance away. Dean shakes his head and eyes another target, slightly further away than the last, but eating, and so less likely to notice him. This time he stumbles and curses softly under his breath. It's still loud enough for the sheep to notice, and soon it too has moved itself out of his reach.

Dean strikes out three more times in a row, and before long he gives up entirely on the quiet approach. Rather, he begins to run full tilt at the animals, arms outstretched and trying to grab their bodies out of the air as they leap away from him.

One desperate jump later and Dean finds himself on his stomach, fingers brushing the patch of grass where only a second ago a sheep had been grazing. And then he is laughing, his whole body shaking with it, the sound breaking apart the crisp afternoon air and leaving him feeling warm and happy all over.

Dean rolls over onto his back, still sniggering, and look over to where he last saw Castiel. The other man is still standing there, and he's watching Dean, eyes bright and a faint hint of what may even be a smile on the corners of his mouth. Dean calls to him. "If you're so smart, you do it."

Castiel doesn't roll his eyes, but Dean gets the distinct impression that he's doing something like it internally. He does huff out an "I will", though, and sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, right where he was standing. A minute or so passes and Dean and Castiel don't break eye contact. But then Dean feels something brush against his hand and looks across to see a sheep stepping over his arm. He could easily reach up and grab it, but instead he watches as it and ten or so other sheep head purposefully in the direction of Castiel, surrounding him and brushing up against him with their heads as he sits there watching Dean.

Dean can't help but grin at everything. Here he is, lying on his back in the middle of a field and watching sheep being drawn to Castiel as if he were a magnet. He wants to go over there as well, nudge up against Castiel like the sheep. Instead, he closes his eyes and feels the warmth from the sun sink into him, he thinks about Sam, safe and resting in the motel room, and the unexpected path his life has taken him. Dean hasn't let himself feel this happy in a long time.

Fade to black.

-00000-

"Are either of you Christian?"

Castiel's question comes from no where, cutting through the silence of anticipation enough to make Sam jump. The three of them are standing at the edge of the woods. The sun has been down for two hours, but there is enough starlight to see by that Dean can see the way Castiel's eyes slide over to Sam as he asks the question.

"I am. Why?" Dean is surprised. He didn't know that. But Sam doesn't look like it's something he's shy about, so he wonders how he never noticed.

Castiel sighs. "Unfortunate, but not unworkable." He reaches into the pocket of the trenchcoat he wears and pulls out a jar filled with a slightly opaque object that looks vaguely like a bar of soap. Dean is sure it hadn't been there while he and Castiel were at the diner or catching the two sheep that are now sleeping at Castiel's feet with ropes tied loosely around their necks, because whatever it is in the jar is giving off a stench that reminds Dean strongly of spending 10 hours a day in the Impala with Sam after eating Mexican food, and he has to turn away to breath deeply. He must have picked it up at some point when Dean was off fetching Sam from the motel room.

"This is troll stench." Castiel continues. "It is made from various samples of trolls and their excrement. You need to cover yourselves with it."

"We need to do what?" Dean finds himself saying almost shrilly, affronted. He looks over to Sam, seejingsupport, but his brother is already reaching for the jar.

Castiel does not look away from the trees. He lets Sam take the jar. "Trolls do not like humans, and they will attack if they smell you. You need to cover yourselves with this so you don't get killed. Sam especially. Trolls have a particular distaste for the Christians, who almost caused their extinction when they stopped believing in them. Sam will have to be extra careful in masking his scent."

Dean feels his brain screech to a halt, the world blurring around the edges. Because those sentences, they mean one thing only; Sammy is in danger. Dean makes half a movement towards his brother. If he can get ahold of the troll stench, then Sam can't cover himself with it and then he'll have to stay behind, where it's safe. But then he looks over. Sam's skin is shiny on his arms and face, the foul smelling bar clutched tightly in his hand and wearing a glare that clearly says that if Dean tries anything, he's not going to like the outcome. Dean can't do anything but let his shoulders slump, and reach out his hand to be given the stench when Sam has finished with it.

"Fine. But don't think I'm letting you get anywhere near the things."

Sam rolls his eyes, and hands Dean the bar. Once he has rubbed it over his body, they both turn to Castiel. "We're ready to go now."

"Yes. Good. Follow me." Castiel bends down and picks up the leashes for the two sheep, shoving something else under his arm. It's a piece of wood, but it has four other, smaller pieces lashed to it, in what may be a rough imitation of another sheep. He sets off into the forest.

Dean and Sam look at each other, shrug, and follow.

-00000-

Sam and Dean are barely even within viewing distance of the sheep and the clearing. It would almost be disappointing, really, if it weren't for the occasional bleating of the sheep, eerie in the otherwise complete silence of the forest. It's almost as if everything else has fled, and the brothers can't bring themselves to look back; the darkness of the trees combined with the stillness, looking behind is like looking into death itself. So they keep their gaze fixed ahed.

The clearing is much the same as the last. Out of place, dirt scattered everywhere from where the trees have been ripped completely out of the ground. The moonlight falls on the sheep, keeping them visible, but less so for Castiel, who has moved into the shadows on the far side of the clearing, his arms hanging loose at his sides, and focused on what is in front of him.

When the sound comes, it is sudden, loud, and shockingly close. Somehow, the lumbering troll had managed to move silently through the trees, but broke into a shuffling run when it caught the scent of food. It passes within ten meters of Sam and Dean, its huge, flat feet slapping the ground with a force that makes the ground shake. This one looks different from the last. Slightly smaller, yet much wider, and covered with a thick layer of matted hair. Only one head, this time, but two small horns poke out of the top of its fur.

The troll slows it momentum as it gets closer to the sheep, grasping at the air in front of it as it runs, it picks up the easiest target. Branches and dirt fly into the air as the troll skids to a halt, its tree-like arm coming up and smashing the decoy sheep into its mouth, teeth crunching down on the wood like it is nothing. The troll then swings around, its beady eyes darting between the two live sheep, apparently deciding which of the tethered animals to devour next.

Beside Dean, Sam makes as if to dash out towards the scene. Dean reaches out for his brother, hand clasped tight on his arm. He knows that if Sam decides to make a run for it there's nothing he can do to stop him, but he will at least hang on and attempt to slow him down. But before any decision can be made, Castiel steps out of the shadows.

He is speaking in a language that Dean doesn't recognise, but the troll certainly seems to. Immediately it stops surveying its next meal and turns around to face Castiel. Dean can't see its face, but after a few seconds the troll roars. The sound reverberates off the trees around them and through his hand Dean can feel Sam shake with it, though it may have been him. The troll then swipes downward at Castiel, and everyone springs into action.

Castiel leaps backwards and the troll's fist crashes into the earth with enough force to leave a hole in the ground. Sam and Dean rush forward too, each making for one of the sheep. Quickly, the brothers grab a leash each and pull the animals towards the trees.

Once they have reached them, Sam and Dean turn back to see what is happening in the clearing. Castiel is standing alarmingly close to the troll, and this time it is Sam who has to hold Dean back from doing something stupid. The troll lashes out again with its arm and Castiel drops and rolls, coming up again to the troll's left. The creature strikes out with his foot as soon as Castiel gets to his feet, but the other man moves almost faster than Dean can follow, and somehow Castiel is now standing behind the troll.

It roars again, the air from its lungs causing the leaves above to rustle, and spins around. But in the time that Castiel was unobserved, he plunged his hand into the pocket of his coat and now is holding a strange stone in his hands. It is pale and almost perfectly round, and there are symbols carved into the side. Castiel shifts his left hand as if turning a large dial and then Dean and Sam have to look away. The light that bursts from the stone is like looking into the sun, and Dean blinks hard to clear red spots from his vision.

He hears Sam gasp beside him, and turns around, quickly. He reaches out and grabs ahold of Sam again. The troll, just seconds before shaking trees and denting the earth, is now nothing but a hulking stone statue. Sam and Dean watch as Castiel puts the stone back in his pocket before he steps forward and gives the leg of the troll a push.

It crashes to the ground, breaking into pieces.

-00000-

The light is on in the motel room. Dean and Sam reach instinctively and simultaneously towards their shoulders where the straps to their rifles would be resting if they had been out hunting, and Dean curses when he remembers leaving both weapons on his bed in the room. But the silhouette they can see through the window is definitely that of a man, and three on one are odds that may cause a would-be thief to flee.

Dean is turning the handle before Sam and Castiel even have time to think to argue about Dean going in first. He feels them crowd in behind him though, as he lets the door swing open slowly to reveal the motel room.

What is behind the door is nothing like Dean expected. The room is spotless. It's even cleaner than it was when Dean woke up Sam to meet Castiel at the forest. The beds are made, Sam and Dean's rifles still sitting on top of the sheets of one, the containers left over from Sam's take-a-way meal have been thrown away. Even the mysterious stain on the carpet has somehow disappeared.

In the middle of the room is a man, and he too is completely unexpected. Tall, past middle-aged and balding, but not old. The man is wearing a suit and a sneer and he holds himself in a way that says he knows what it is to be in charge. He is looking straight past Sam and Dean to Castiel, who immediately steps forward and places himself between the brothers and the stranger.

"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of cleaning up the place a bit. It reeked of humanity."

""What are you doing here, Zachariah?" And Dean finds himself taking an involuntary step back, because Castiel's voice is level and he's not holding himself in a threatening way but a furiousness seems to radiate off him, as if he would strike Zachariah down where he stands.

"You know exactly why I'm here, Castiel." Zachariah, too, looks totally calm, but there's something about the way he says "Castiel", the way the name drops from his mouth like it doesn't carry the weight of the words before it, that makes Dean want to walk over and punch him in the face.

Dean looks towards Sam and notices his brother edging closer to the rifles on the bed, all while keeping his gaze focused on the scene before him and smiles to himself. Sometimes he feels so proud of Sammy he could burst.

"I fail to see how it is any of your business." Something is making Castiel react now, his right hand curled into a fist. If Dean didn't know any better, hadn't watched Castiel face off against a troll with no hesitation, he would call it worry, or fear.

"We would have left humanity to face the threat of the troll alone, but you took this ridiculous quest on yourself against our advice. You can't spare one now just because you like him." Here Zachariah walks through the three of them. Castiel makes an aborted movement in the direction of Dean, but otherwise faces ahead looking at the spot Zachariah just vacated. Dean turns to watch as Zachariah leaves the room, calling over his shoulder as he opens he door. "Castiel, you know what you have to do."

Dean whistles lowly as he turns back around. "Wow, can you believe that guy? What a dou-" but he gets no further, because the scene in the room steals the breath from his lungs. Sam got half way to the weapons before Zachariah left the room, but it wasn't enough. While Dean had his back to him, Castiel moved faster than Dean would have though possible and without making a sound. Suddenly there is a gun pointed at Sam's head, and Dean moves without even thinking, throwing himself between Castiel and his brother.

"I don't have much experience with firearms, but at this distance I don't think I could miss." Castiel says, and he sounds like he's commenting on the weather, not talking about blowing Sammy's head off. Dean is truly afraid. "I must insist you stand aside, Dean."

Dean holds his hands up in what could be described as a placating gesture, but placation is the last thing on his mind. If he can get a little closer, if he can distract Castiel for long enough, then he can grab the weapon, and then whatever happens will happen. If he has to shoot the man he's come to be really quite fond of, even over such a short time, then so be it. To save Sammy, he'll do anything.

But it's Sam that speaks first. "What's going on, Castiel?" That's Sam. Always willing to give the benefit of the doubt.

Castiel answers his question, but he speaks to Dean. "You are right, of course, Zachariah is...unkind. But he is also correct. I have been letting Sam live because I like you, Dean, and I can't let it go on." Here he pauses, as if waiting for either brother to make a sound. None is forthcoming, and Castiel continues. "Sam is not human, Dean."

Dean finds his voice. "What the hell are you talking about?" He's frantic. He'd try to hide it, he should hide it, but he's in way over his head, "I was there. I was there when mom and dad bought him home from the hospital. I know my brother is human."

Castiel sighs as if he is talking to a child. "Your brother may have been human, but Sam is not your brother. At least, not the one your mother gave birth to. Sam is a troll."

Dean suddenly has the urge to laugh, but there us nothing funny about this situation. Again, it is Sam that speaks up, his voice completely reasonable. "I can't be a troll, Castiel. Look at me, I'm completely human."

Castiel shakes his head slowly. To his credit, he does look sorry. But he's not backing down. "There are many different species of troll. Most of them look like those you saw, Dean, but some of them aren't. Some of them look just like you and me. Some of them were human, once, before they committed acts so horrific that I will not speak of them now." Castiel takes a breath, and for the first time since Dean threw himself between them, he looks directly at Sam. "I knew it the moment I saw you, but I didn't do anything about it because you seem very kind. Sometimes, these trolls have children, but they don't want them, they want a human baby. So they steal them, and replace them with their own. We call these replacement babies Changelings. You, Sam, are a Changeling."

No one moves. A silence falls, and Dean has the perfect moment to dart forward and snatch the gun off Castiel, but he can't make himself move. Even Sam, it seems, is having trouble keeping up with what Castiel is saying. "And...and what made you change your mind?"

"Zachariah is right. It's not about who you are, it's about what you are. You do not seem cruel, Sam, but trolls are. It's only a matter of time before your latent nature is awakened and you start hurting people. I can't let that happen."

Dean finds his voice. It's croaky, it's slightly hysterical, it's rambling, but it's there. "Let's say, for crazy's sake, that you're right. Sam's a troll. I know my brother, I raised him, he won't do anything to hurt anyone. I promise. I'll look after him."

Castiel looks on stony faced, and he doesn't lower his weapon. Dean can feel tears welling in his eyes. "He won't be evil, I raised him. Please, Cas."

Castiel breathes out very slowly. He closes his eyes. He puts the rifle back down on the bed.

-00000-

There is a knocking at the door. Castiel doesn't open his eyes, but he does speak. "Dean, you and Sam need to leave now."

Dean doesn't move. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. Castiel's eyes snap open. "Zachariah has already sent someone here after you both. Dean, you and Sam need to leave _now_."

Sam nods his head decisively and grabs Dean by the upper arm. He tugs, hard, in the direction of the door. Dean stumbles after him, Castiel following on their heels. They reach the back door of the motel just as whoever is on the other side of the front knocks again. They swing open the door, and Sam and Dean step outside.

Dean turns around. Castiel still hasn't stepped over the threshold of the building. He is standing in the doorway, lit from behind with a glow that reminds Dean ridiculously of an angel. But angels don't hold a gun to your little brother's heads. Angels don't threaten to kill the person who means more to you than yourself. Angels don't accuse your brother of being a troll and angels don't – "What are you doing, Cas? Hurry up." Dean Winchester doesn't leave people behind.

Castiel shakes his head. "I have a small safe house in the woods where we first met. Make for there." He straightens himself further, and Dean has an absurd moment of worry for the tension he must be carrying in his shoulders. "I'll hold them off. I'll hold them all off. And I'll meet you there."

Dean takes a few steps forward. He could take another and he would be back inside the doorway with Castiel. "Don't be stupid. We have a car, we'll be faster. Cas–" Castiel reaches out, grabs Dean by the collar of his jacket and smashes their mouths together. The kiss is closed mouth, could almost be considered chaste, and Dean is furious with Castiel, wants to hit him over and over again, and he's slightly terrified of him too, but over that he's clutching desperately at Castiel's shoulders and fighting the urge to let his knees collapse from underneath him, finally being allowed to touch and he wants to get closer, as close to Castiel as he can. And just as soon as the kiss begins it ends, Castiel shoves Dean away and shuts the door in his face.

Dean stands, staring at the chipping paint on the door and blinking in shock. Castiel's voice floats out from behind it. "Raphael."

Suddenly Dean feels a hand on his arm again and it's Sam, whispering "Come on, Dean. Dean, we have to go" and pulling him along in his wake. There is a succession of crashes from inside the motel room, and Dean turns around. He takes a few steps back towards the motel but Sam grabs him again, both hands this time around the upper arms and gives a tug. And another and another as he pulls Dean away from the light from under the doorway and towards the Impala parked out in the night.

A cloud has covered the moon.

Fade to black.

-00000-

Castiel's safe house looks really more like a cottage from the outside. It's deep in the woods where the tree cover is thickest, and nestled between three trunks in such a way that the walls bend around them. Dean doesn't know what to think. He almost didn't come here, wasn't sure if he could trust Castiel not to give their location away to others who would come after Sam, but in the end Sam had turned them towards the woods and Dean had decided that he'd rather take his chances with Castiel than anyone else. It seemed to be the best way to keep Sam safe.

But now he's having doubts. The building doesn't look safe. It doesn't even look like somewhere Castiel would choose to hide out, and Dean wonders if he and Sam have wandered into a trap. Sam swings open the door anyway, and the brothers step inside.

They realise immediately that the outside of the building is nothing but a cover. The inside would almost be spartan - a bed, a couch and a kitchen - if it weren't for the swords and knives hanging across the entire back wall. There's a bow and arrow set up next to the lone window and when Dean steps into the house and looks behind him he can see that all around the doorway Castiel has carved strange, unrecognisable ruins deep into the wood. There's a huge battle axe leaning against the wall next to the door. This isn't a house. It's a weapons storage.

Dean makes immediately for the bed. It's getting close to three in the morning and neither he nor Sam have slept in almost 24 hours. "I call bed. You get the couch, Sammy." Dean collapses onto the bed. It smells like earth and trees and the air just before the rain. It reminds Dean of Castiel, even though he's sure he's never consciously smelled the guy. He falls asleep almost immediately.

When Dean wakes up the first thing he looks for is Sam. His brother is fast asleep, despite the fact that he's had to hang his legs over the end of the couch in a way that means they've surely gone numb by now, and the sunlight is streaming in through the windows in a way that suggests it's at least midday. The next thing he does is lie still and listen out to hear if Castiel has found his way to the cottage. There's no sound to suggest he has, and Dean doesn't let himself think about it. He's not even sure if he's sad about that or not. There's a large part of him that still wants to beat Castiel bloody, if he can.

Dean rolls out of bed and walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. It's fully stocked. There's even bacon for breakfast, which Dean thinks a little odd for Castiel to keep perishables in a place that he might not get to that often, but he checks that it's not gone off before putting it on the bench to cook up.

The cupboards are filled with tins and boxes of food, enough that Dean won't have to leave to get any more for at least five weeks. Sam wakes up as Dean is searching for a frypan, mumbling a little before falling straight off the couch when he tries to use his legs. Dean flashes a huge grin in response to Sam's glare.

After breakfast Sam and Dean go about their day as normally as they can, given the fact that it's clearly dangerous for them to wander too far from the safe house. Sam goes off for a jog, Dean checks out some of Castiel's weaponry and eventually they eat and go to sleep again.

The pattern continues for four weeks before Dean's anger with Castiel begins to be tinged with worry. He'd stayed behind to fight someone, and there now seems to be a good chance that he was either captured or is dead. Dean would be incredibly frustrated if Castiel was dead. He's still not entirely sure that he doesn't want to be the one to kill him.

Sam and Dean come to the decision on the Monday of their forth week in the safe house that come the next week, if Castiel hasn't returned, they will leave and go back to their normal lives. They'd have to go into town to get groceries anyway, so it would be easy to just not come back. They even pack some of Castiel's knives and two large swords away in the trunk of the Impala in preparation. Dean will feel bad about never getting closure, but there's really nothing he can do about it.

Friday night rolls around, and Sam is pacing the floor, arguing that they should just leave now, when there's a knock on the door. He freezes, and Dean leaps to his feet. He's absolutely not going to let Sam answer the door. Sam's the one they're after, and he's not going to let anything happen to him. There's no peephole, which Dean thinks is a bit of a design flaw, so Dean has to open the door blind.

"You really should have picked up the axe. It's why it's there."

It's Castiel. He's leaning heavily on his right side and his face is covered in bruises, particularly around his left eye. There's a stain on the sleeve of his trenchcoat that looks suspiciously like dried blood. Dean does the second thing he thinks of. He reaches forward and pulls Castiel into a hug.

Castiel doesn't hug back, just stands there awkwardly, and Dean realises he may actually be hurting the guy. He doesn't feel as bad about that as he maybe should. But he steps back and aside and Castiel limps past him. Sam looks conflicted, but he doesn't say anything as Castiel sits down heavily on the couch.

Castiel doesn't explain himself, where he's been or what's been going on. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. After a moment Dean walks over and sits down next to him. Castiel is almost radiating heat, like a rock that has spent all day being heated by the sun. Dean feels himself drifting off from the proximity and rests his head on Castiel's shoulder. Sam can have the bed tonight.

Fade to black.


End file.
